Cigarettes and Eulogies
by justatinybitgay
Summary: Matthew never liked big cities, he never liked apartment buildings, and he never liked Alfred F. Jones. ((AmeCan AU! Rated M for swearing, smut in later chapters, and character death.))


(( This story is for Vani, my filth wife. Please keep in mind that this is one of my first fan fictions. The chapters in this may be a bit short at the start while I try to get an actual feel for the story, but don't worry, I'm planning on this to have a lot of chapters in it. Anyways, thanks for reading!)

The train car rattled lightly as it passed through a long and dark tunnel quickly, light murmuring from the passengers of the train so as to not interrupt any passengers near by. One newborn had just stopped crying after what seemed like an eternity to many people's relief. A pair of old women chatted lightly about their grandsons and a sharply dressed man talked into a cell phone. A young blonde man stared out of one of the trains many windows into what had become the country side. Ear buds were pressed deep into his ears and volume turned three fourths of the way up to block out any outside side, the music being able to be heard from the seat behind him who was occupied with a sleeping woman and what he assumed to be her husband.

He had been biting on his lip, picking at the skin that was slowly being peeled off absentmindedly. The blonde boy had been on this train for almost three hours and his feet were aching to just get up and walk around a bit. However, when he had tried to go see the other carts to stretch his feet, he had gotten a stare from the ticket collector and quickly sat down before. These songs were starting to give him a headache anyways. With a soft whine, he pulled the earbuds out and slouched back into his seat. The nineteen year old wanted nothing more than to be off this train and he _desperately_ needed a smoke. Mumbling something under his breath about the ticket collector and how he was a prick, he ran a hand through his tousled hair.

Matthew Williams was a very impatient man. He didn't like to wait very long. Even in drive throughs he sometimes just drove off if he was in the line for more than seven or eight minutes. Things like this were even worse, because he knew that he couldn't just get out and go home if he wanted. Tapping his foot lightly, he let out the biggest sigh as an automated voice came over the intercom, telling the passengers that they were approaching the near stop, New York City.

Even hearing it made him cringe slightly. Why was he coming to this city again? Matthew knew himself well enough to know that a place like this wasn't for him. Having grown up in a town of just ten thousand, the idea of this just made him grimace. The American dream, huh? The change from suburban to city seemed almost immediate as they could soon see that famous outline that was scratched into their minds from postcards. He was one of the first to get up out of his seat, glad to stretch his legs. The Canadian rolled his shoulders back until he heard a satisfying crack, grabbing a grey backpack that had been on the ground and swinging it over his shoulder, the sudden weight almost enough to make him fall over.

The train soon pulled into the populated station, almost all the other passengers up and anxious to get off on this train. As those doors were finally opened, Matthew was one of the first to get off, half because of being pushed off and wanting to get out of that suffocating mass of people. The train station was even worse. God, why did this city have to be the tourist center of the world? He let his back pack hang on one shoulder as he tried to make his way out of here. Even if he was sure that it wouldn't be stolen, these were the only things that he had and he couldn't risk the possibility.

He held a folded up piece of paper in his palm, no more bigger than his hand with a scribbly written address on it. While he could barely make out what it read, he had memorized the place in his mind. The corner of 45th and 10th, the red apartment building, floor three, room 307. He was supposed to get the 'hidden' key from the top of the door to let himself in if the man he was supposed to be staying with wasn't there. He had only met this guy once before, at his grandfathers wake. Mumbling soft excuses as he tried to hurry his way through the crowded way, he kept his eyes down, not wanting to have to look anyone in the eyes.

Matthew had lived with his grandfather for most of his life, his mother had died when he was young and his father left his mother when he found out she was pregnant. It had been good enough for him, even if his grandfather could barely hear a word. The kind man had died around a month ago and with no where to go and his inheritance still tied up in the bank for some reason, he had been trying to find some sort of home. And of course, this man who had said he knew his grandfather well had offered to let him stay in his apartment for a month or two until he got that money. Why he did it, he wasn't exactly sure, not that he really cared. As long as it was a place with a floor and and space for him to sleep, he was grateful.

With a lit cigarette in his mouth and a blank look on his face he tried his best to navigate his way to the apartment, asking a woman who only seemed to speak broken english where it was to only get a few points and a mutter under her breath when he turned to leave. After all this struggling, he was finally able to find the damn place.

"Fucking, finally." The Canadian mumbled under his breath as he tossed what was left of the cigarette to the cement ground, crushing it under a boot before proceeding to the building only to find himself confused on how to get it. He tried pushing and pulling on the door only to get frustrated when he found it wouldn't open.

"Need some help there?"

"Shit!" Matthew jumped when he had heard the gentle voice of a man behind him, clutching at his heart for a moment.

"You almost gave me a heart attack.." He mumbled before actually turning to look at whoever that had been. When the violet eyes found the man, he looked him down and up, an odd sense of familiarity in his mind when he found his face.

He was about six foot, dusty blonde hair with deep blue eyes covered by square framed glasses. There was a strong build to him unlike Matthew's own lanky and thin one that seemed to almost bother him. There was just this sort of atmosphere that rubbed off onto him telling him that this guy was a total douche and his senses were usually right. However, this man was also the one who had promised him a room and board for the next two months.


End file.
